Heat, part 1
by wolfmusic218
Summary: Triple digit temps, a busted appliance, and a threat of violence culminates in an offer Carter can't refuse.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Heat, part 1

Author: wolfmusic218 & Jessa4865

Summary: Triple digit temps, a busted appliance, and a threat of violence culminates in an offer Carter can't refuse.

Author's notes: This is basically a PWP with no redeeming social value whatsoever but was hella fun to write together. Since we can't post as co-authors, we'll each post 6 chapters. I (wolf) will take the first 6, Jess will take the last ones. Keep an eye out for a change in authors once we get to that point.

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John Reese was not a man to be trifled with, especially when he was bored. Being bored lent itself to him finding things to do, which usually lent to him getting into trouble more often than not.

He hadn't had a new number in two days. According to Finch, this was not unusual during the summer when the heat in the city hit triple digits, like it was today. The heat was usually the cause of random acts of violence; people short-tempered because the heat was making them that way. The organized, planned crimes seemed to take an air-conditioned hiatus for a little while.

He was starting to go a little stir crazy. The thought crossed his mind to call Carter and see what she was doing. He knew she had the day off, but figured she'd be spending her time with Taylor so he'd crossed that off the short list. Finch was sick of hearing from him and had told him in no uncertain terms that he would call him if something came up - Finch code for "don't call me, I'll call you." He'd read today's paper three times. Even the comics. He watched the park below from his apartment; it was even too hot for Han to be out playing chess.

He was about to clean his gun for the 2nd time when his phone rang. He knew he should feel guilty about being happy since it was usually Finch with a number, but regardless, he was. Until he glanced at the number; it wasn't Finch, it was Carter.

"Carter, what's wrong?" His voice sounded tense, even to his own ears. They'd come a long way in their friendship, but she rarely called just to chat.

"Have any new cases come up for you?"

His brows knit together in confusion. "No, not in the last couple of days. What's going on?"

"You might want to keep an eye out for a case involving me."

He stood quickly, grabbing his gun and checking the chamber, heading for the door. "Tell me what's wrong, Jos. I can be there in ten minutes or less, I swear." His heart beat hard and fast in his chest. He'd sworn an oath to himself months ago that he would never let her get hurt again. Ever.

"I'm going to kill my Super."

He stopped quickly at that, his hand on the doorknob, the phone wedged between his chin and shoulder. "Excuse me? Who?"

"My Super. The guy that runs my building. The same guy who says it might be 24 to 48 hours before he can even _**look **_at my air conditioning. It's 96 degrees in my apartment. I had to send Taylor to his grandmother's."

John pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Was she serious? "Please tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not kidding. I'm going to kill him. I can't take this heat anymore."

When he heard her frustrated laugh, he leaned his head against the door and counted to ten. Slowly. "You scared the shit out of me, Carter."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long moment. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't even think…I thought you'd know…I'm sorry…."

The corner of his mouth turned up quickly at her apology. He let out a breath. "It's OK. Between the heat and the boredom, I think I was ready for anything. I should have known you were kidding."

He heard her sigh in his ear. "Seriously, I'm sorry."

He pushed away from the door and set his gun on the coffee table. "What can I do to help? If you need to get out of the heat, there are a lot of places you can go." He paused. "My AC is working, you could come here."

"Wow, you're offering to let me know where you live? That's a big step."

"Touché. But, for the record, I never kept it from you; you've just never asked. And yes, I'm offering."

He sat down on the couch and put his feet up. The banter between them always put him in a good mood. He loved that she never let him get away with anything, at least verbally; she held her own. It was a strange sort of turn-on.

"As much as I'd love to accept, I'll have to take a raincheck. Because of the rental agreement I signed, being a cop and possibly having sensitive materials here, I have to be here if someone comes to work in my apartment. I don't want to take the chance of missing him."

"Let me come and take a look at it." _What the hell was he doing?_

"What?" He could hear the confusion in her voice. He really didn't blame her; he had no idea what he was doing. He didn't know the first thing about fixing an air conditioner, but damn it, he wanted to see her. The thought surprised him.

"I'm not guaranteeing I can fix it, but what would it hurt? Don't you women say home maintenance is in the male DNA? I can't make it worse, can I?" He shook his head. He must be out of his mind.

The laugh that graced his ear was worth every awkward word. "No, I don't suppose you can. I wouldn't mind the company, either. And John?"

"Yeah."

"Bring a six pack with you. At least my fridge still works." At that, she hung up.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Bring a six-pack?

Bring a fucking six-pack?

What the hell was she thinking? What was it about John Reese that made her certifiable?

She stared at her phone for a long moment before she decided it wasn't her fault. No, not a chance. Like everything else that had happened to her since the day she'd met the man, her ridiculous words were his fault. Everything was his fault. It was easy that way.

It let her completely off the hook for the flutter in her belly at the idea that John was on his way to her apartment to see her for a reason that had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with work.

At least the nervous flutter kept her mind from contemplating how easily he'd admitted to being worried about her. That would have been upsetting enough for her to call him and immediately cancel the invitation. Squeezing her eyes closed, she covered her face with her hands and groaned. Had she really just invited John over like they were buddies?

Yes, she had. Sort of. The man had been more or less begging for an invitation. He had volunteered to fix her air conditioning, which the super certainly had little to no intention of doing before she melted. Speaking of which, she winced as she considered her attire. She was hardly dressed for company. Hell, she wasn't even dressed enough to open the shades, but since she was leaving them closed in a futile attempt to keep the apartment cool, that hadn't actually been a problem. Now that she was expecting a visitor, she briefly considered getting up, taking a shower, getting dressed in actual clothes.

But John had said ten minutes and the man was not much for dawdling. Even allowing an extra ten minutes for him to stop and buy beer if he didn't have any, she didn't have time to shower. And if she wasn't going to shower, there was really no point in changing her clothes, just to sweat all over something clean. Besides, it wasn't a date, she told herself. The man was bored and, provided he didn't withdraw his offer the minute he realized just how fucking hot it was at her place, was coming over to fix something. He wasn't going to pay much, if any, attention to her clothes.

Which, she sighed, was rather unfortunate since, sweaty and mussed as she was, she knew she looked damn good in her tank top and boy shorts.

She wondered if John would be wearing his typical suit. She couldn't imagine seeing him in anything else, though certainly a suit made no sense for making mechanical repairs, nor did it make much sense in a heat wave. John liked to blend in. Dressed to the nines in this weather, the man would stick out like a sore thumb. Not that he ever didn't stand out. She'd never been able to figure out how the CIA missed him. All they needed to do was follow the trail of swooning women, and men, in his wake.

Getting up from the couch, she ambled into the kitchen, as she did several times an hour, to pull open the freezer door and lean her head inside. A few blissful breaths of the chilled air and she shivered happily. Such a lovely sensation, being cold. It was a wonder she'd never realized it all those wintry days when she'd been bundled up in four layers and bitching about the temperature. As she stood there, she stared at the carton of ice cream, idly wondering if John liked double chocolate fudge. She couldn't even picture him eating ice cream. The only thing she'd ever seen him with in terms of food was a cup of coffee, which, she couldn't say she'd ever seen him drink. Wondering whether or not the man was at least partially robotic took up far more time than she wanted to admit to herself.

In fact, it was only a sharp rap on the door that pulled her from her insane musings about how many human-robot hybrids the government had created. Shaking her head, she closed the freezer and looked down, realizing that her thin pink top did nothing to hide her physical reaction to the cold air. All of a sudden, she wished she'd changed into something that wouldn't make John think she'd had an ulterior motive in asking him over.

He'd notice. Any man would probably notice, but John? Definitely. He noticed everything and though he'd have the decency not to mention it, he'd never forget it. And he'd have that damn smirk over it too.

Pissed off at herself, she stomped over to the door and threw it open, her angry glare daring him to mention her appearance.

His eyes widened slightly at her, first at her mood, then at her clothes. He worked to swallow, finally pushing out words in a decidedly deeper tone that normal. "Everything ok, Carter?"

As she tried to think of something that would explain her mood swing, her eyes drifted over him. He wasn't wearing his precious suit. He was wearing a close-fitting dark blue polo shirt, the three buttons open - someday she was going to ask him if he was claustrophobic - and faded jeans slung low on his slim hips and sneakers. Black Chuck Taylors. John Reese owned a fucking pair of sneakers.

She reached up to wipe away the drool that had probably started dribbling down her chin. Her hand gripped the edge of the door as she fought to keep herself upright as all the blood in her body rushed south. She nodded to the AC unit beneath the living room window, words beyond her grasp momentarily.

He moved slowly, his face suspicious as he crossed the room. He pulled at the open collar of his shirt. "Damn, it is hot in here."

Her eyes moved of their own accord, taking in the perfect curve of his ass, highlighted by the snug fit of his jeans. The temperature had to have gone up at least ten degrees since he'd walked in, but suddenly she didn't care anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

_This is a shorter chapter (it's just the way it was written - we each took a chapter), so you might end up getting 2 today. _

**Chapter 3**

"Jesus, Carter, it's hotter in here than it is outside." He turned towards her and had to remind himself to keep his eyes on hers. He bit his lip to keep the threatening smile at bay. It was hot; she was dressed for the heat and he understood that, but damn it…what little she _**was**_ wearing left very little to his overactive imagination.

"Thanks for the news flash." She watched him pull at the collar of his shirt again, watched the sweat already forming on his forehead. "Now you understand why I was thinking homicidal thoughts."

He chuckled. "I do. But, I think I may have just the cure for that." He held up brown paper bag. "One for now, one for later."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Later, there'd better be icicles hanging off my nose, but if you have beer in there, that'll do for now."

He opened the bag and reached in, pulling out a bottle of Corona and a lime. He wasn't sure what came over him, but he moved closer to her and softly pressed the bottle against her neck, watched her eyes close with the sensation. "Cold enough for you?"

She hissed as the cold seeped into her skin and reached up, grasping at his wrist. "Damn…that's….perfect. How'd you keep it that cold from there to here? It's about 120 degrees outside."

Reese swallowed hard as a small sliver of ice slipped off the bottle and slid down her chest. He really, really needed to get this done and get out of here. His long-controlled desire for her was starting to bubble to the surface and he knew it wouldn't take much encouragement to make him do something incredibly stupid.

He took her other hand and put it on the bottle. "Magic." His voice came out as a strangled whisper.

She opened her eyes and watched him for a moment. "Magic, huh? Gonna use some of that on my AC or am I going to have to load up and head out?"

"Oh, I'm going to fix your AC, but I need your freezer first." He pulled the six-pack out and then shook the bag. "For what else is in the bag."

Her eyes got big and he laughed and twisted out of the way when she made a grab for it. "What's in the bag, John?"

He wagged a finger at her and held the bag over her head, smiling at her pout. "Uh uh, you have to wait. It's a surprise." He looked around the room. "Show me the kitchen. And keep your hands off….the bag." He winked at her as he headed in the direction he assumed the kitchen was.

She'd never seen this side of him and decided she liked it. She liked it a lot. She followed him into the kitchen and watched as he rolled the top of the bag down to close it, keeping an eye on her the whole time, and opening the freezer. When the cold air hit his face, he groaned. "Oh my God…this feels great. You should just stick your head in here."

She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head at him. "I know."

Glancing back at her, he saw the grin on her face.

"Oh." He turned back towards the freezer, trying in vain to keep his smile from embarrassing her.

She laughed out loud at him. "Oh, quit it, John. It was either that or getting my gun and killing the idiot downstairs."

At that she turned and headed back towards the living room, not waiting for an answer. As she turned the corner, she said, just loud enough for him to hear, "At least I know you're not completely oblivious."

He paused for a moment before following her. No, he was definitely not oblivious and, apparently, she didn't seem to mind. The stakes had just gotten a little higher. He grabbed a couple of the beers and, after digging to find a knife for the lime, he headed after her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

She watched him saunter back into the living room and slice the lime. She waited patiently while he popped the top off the two beers and shoved wedges of lime in each. But when he offered her one, she took them both.

She cocked an eyebrow at his dismayed expression. "You can have yours when that damn thing starts working."

He smirked while she plugged the bottle tops with her thumbs and inverted both bottles. She was sipping from one when he reached for the other. With a laugh, she twisted out of his reach.

"You're going to drink them both?" His expression was damn close to a pout, which did absolutely nothing to dissuade her from her behavior. It was adorable; he was adorable.

She took another sip from the other bottle. "I need these. You haven't tried to sleep here."

He stared at her, toying with the challenge she'd inadvertently issued. "Not yet." The look in his eyes wasn't helping to lower the temperature.

Her heart was beating wildly as she held his stare, her mouth curling into a grin despite herself. But the little voice in the back of her head reminded her that issuing that invitation would only result in a delay of the AC being fixed. She nodded toward the busted appliance and met his eyes. "You get that thing working, John, and we'll revisit this discussion."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, trying to determine how serious she was. She had no idea if she'd actually meant her flirtatious words when she said them, but when she saw the barely disguised eagerness in his face, the faintest sign of hope in his clear eyes, she realized she had meant it.

In fact, for a moment there, she didn't give a shit about the heat and was considering dragging the man into her bedroom and giving them both exactly what they apparently wanted.

But then a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, caught in her eyelashes and stung her eye. Damn. With the bravado destroyed by the heat, she offered one of the beers. "Will this make you move faster?" She needed him to stop staring at her. She couldn't think when he stared at her, no matter how much she liked it, no matter how much she wanted him to keep doing it.

It had to be some sort of subversive mind control CIA agents were trained to use on their enemies, controlling their victims' thoughts and desires and ability to function. The man's stare shut down her central nervous system. He was dangerous.

He took the beer from her, continuing to hold her eyes as he took a long pull from the bottle, his lips right where hers had been.

She swallowed hard, wondering if he knew what he did to her or if he was just being himself and she was reading something into everything he did.

When he lowered the bottle, his familiar smirk was in place. Hell yes he knew it. He was doing it on purpose. Son of a bitch.

Well, then, there was only one thing left to do. She closed her eyes, pressing her bottle against her chest, letting the moisture gather on her overheated skin. She rolled it across the skin exposed by her low cut tank, then moved it lower, lifting her top a bit to repeat the action on her stomach. The dead silence and lack of movement from John told her that she'd achieved her aim. Slowly opening her eyes, feigning her most innocent look, she met John's stare.

His jaw was slack, his pupils wide, his arms limp at his sides, a steady stream of beer falling from the bottle he'd obviously forgotten he was holding.

She felt guilty for the tease that had worked far better than she'd expected. She plopped onto the couch, ashamed of herself. She wasn't a tease. She didn't like to manipulate people. She stared at her beer bottle and decided to blame the heat. The heat was making her crazy. The heat made everyone crazy. Once he got that damn air conditioner working she'd go back to being herself and things would go back to their normal, confusing state.

John snapped out of his fog after a moment, setting the half-spilled beer on the table and moving to squat in front of the unit. He inspected the cover and didn't turn back to her when he spoke. "Do you have a Phillips screwdriver?"

Jos headed into the kitchen, fishing around in the cabinet where she kept anything mechanical. There were two screwdrivers. Neither one had a name. As she carried them both back to the living room, she decided not to be embarrassed for not knowing anything about tools. "The flat one or the x-one? Which one is-"

Words failed her when she turned the corner. John had decided to torture her back and had removed his shirt while she was out of the room. He stood up and faced her, giving her a full view of his bare chest, his slim waist, the way his hips tapered into the jeans the fit him so perfectly well.

He reached out, taking one of the tools with a grin. "The x-one, Carter."

Dragging her eyes back to his, her mouth fell open the way his had moments earlier. "Huh?"

Chuckling, John turned away, bending over and beginning to detach the cover of the AC. Mesmerized by the view, Jos stood there stupidly. It was going to be a long fucking day.

With, she thought hopefully, emphasis on the fucking.


	5. Chapter 5

_Another short one. ;)_

Chapter 5

The stupid grin just wouldn't go away, even after he turned towards the AC unit. He'd only meant to tease her the way she'd teased him with the bottle, but the look in her eyes was something he wasn't prepared for: out and out lust. He wasn't an idiot; he knew there was an attraction there, at least on his part. From day one, he'd noticed; he also wasn't blind. She was a very beautiful woman. But more than that, and he hadn't gotten a read on this until later, she was strong and smart and funny. All things that he liked in a woman.

And damn it, she looked amazing wearing practically nothing. Amazing to the point that he had to turn away or embarrass himself.

He_ really_ needed to focus.

He could hear her behind him, shifting on the couch, getting comfortable. Watching him.

Taking his shirt off might have been a bad idea. Now he had to worry about keeping his stomach in at the same time trying to fix the damn air conditioner he had absolutely no idea how to fix. And he was still sweating. He could feel it dripping down his back and chest.

He got down on his stomach, reading the information from the unit in the wall.

He tapped his earwig. "Finch".

"_Go ahead, Mr. Reese"_

"GE. In wall. 11600 BTU's"

"_Give me a minute, Mr. Reese." _

He heard her stand up from the couch and walk over, standing behind him. He cut his eyes at her and grinned. "Unless you're going get on the floor with me, you might want to back up, Carter."

She held the bottom of the beer bottle against his shoulder blades. "Sounds to me like you don't need my help, you cheater."

He stood quickly, causing her to step back. He grabbed the bottle from her hand and took a deep drink. "There were rules? You need to establish the ground rules before any game."

She took the bottle back and took her own drink, watching his eyes. "You said _you_ were going to fix it."

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm, ran his hand down his chest, watching her and hearing her breath catch. "I did. I just didn't say I was going to employ every means necessary to fix it. You didn't ask. I didn't think it was relevant. You just want it fixed, right?"

"I want it fixed."

He leaned closer to her, brushing her hand when he took the bottle again. "Then what does it matter _how _it gets fixed as long as it does?"

She felt his breath against her face and had to suppress a shudder his nearness caused.

He watched a drop of sweat slide down the side of her face and caught it with his thumb, caressing her cheek in the process. He tilted her chin with his fingers. "So what do I get as a reward?"

Her hand landed on his hip. "A reward?" He could feel her thumb rubbing the skin just above his beltloop.

It was the most they'd touched in all the time they'd known each other. He wanted to blame the heat, he really did, but he couldn't. He wanted to blame the way she was dressed, but couldn't. OK, maybe he could, but not for all of it.

"For fixing your air conditioner? You remember? The reason I'm here sweating my ass off?" He stepped closer to her, into her personal space. She didn't step back. He couldn't resist the smirk that graced his lips. This was getting interesting.

Her hand tightened just slightly on his side, enough for him to take note. "I remember. Maybe we should worry about that if you get it fixed."

He leaned his head down, brushing his lips against her cheek. "_**If**_ I get it fixed? Where's your faith, Carter?" He set the bottle down on the windowsill without looking. His focus was on her. He ran just his fingertips down her arm, teasing her fingers. "You know I always keep my promises."

"I know you do."

When he pulled away from her, her eyes were closed, her lips open slightly. It was enticing. He wanted a taste. He doubted she would deny him. He leaned in closer….

"_Mr. Reese, I have the information you requested, I've sent it to your phone." _

He startled and bit his lip, nearly groaning. "As usual, your timing is impeccable, Finch."

He felt her stiffen and step back. He gripped her hand and held on as he watched her walls come back up. The change was amazing to watch. It made him determined to knock them down again.

"Carter." The word came out softly.

She pulled her hand from his and turned. He didn't think she was aware that turning like that didn't help deter him. Just made him want her even more. He couldn't pull his eyes from her ass.

When she turned around, she caught him and smiling, shook her head. "It's the heat, it's made us both crazy."

"It's made us something." He winked at her and pulled out his phone, getting the information he needed to finish this job and, hopefully, get rewarded for his effort.


	6. Chapter 6

_OK, folks...this is the last chapter that I'm posting. If you'd like to continue to read Heat, please follow Jessa4865 since she'll be posting the remaining chapters. Thanks for sticking with us!_

Chapter 6

Reese attempted to force his attention back on the task at hand, but unfortunately, he was acutely aware of the woman behind him. He heard every breath, every movement, every sigh, almost it felt, every thought. Her eyes were on him, he knew, he could feel her stare as if it were a touch. She was turned on, which he realized was entirely his fault, and interested, which surprised him. Carter had always struck him as the sort that wouldn't give in to any sort of affair involving a coworker, though he really barely fit that definition, so it caught him off guard to see her completely willing.

But damn it, if he didn't fix her broken AC, she'd never let him live it down. Not only would he have failed her on a promise he didn't even remember making, but she'd undoubtedly remind him of his inability to handle a simple task. It was hardly simple to him, however. He wasn't exactly mechanically inclined. He could plan no end of military maneuvers without much thought, he could fight off ten armed men in two minutes, hell, he could even cook a mean lasagna. But HVAC wasn't his cup of tea. As he reviewed the information Finch had sent, he prayed he wouldn't embarrass himself.

And that was going to be really hard to avoid if he couldn't stop mentally undressing Carter. But at least she'd moved away.

Jos reclined on the couch, her eyes glued to John. He was attention getting on a good day. He was incredibly good looking, had an amazing voice that fairly oozed sex, eyes that could look straight into her soul, and a commanding presence.

But god damn, with his shirt off and those fucking jeans… Jesus, she was in trouble.

She couldn't take her eyes off him, off his shoulders and muscular arms and sweat-slicked skin that reminded her of the simple fact that she desperately wanted to touch it. She didn't even care that physical contact with another human would cause her skin to melt off. It would be completely worth it.

Gripping her beer bottle, she swore she wouldn't approach him again. Hell, she'd been throwing herself at him and he'd just turned away and gone back to fixing the busted appliance like her world hadn't been moments away from ending. He'd almost kissed her. At least, she'd thought he was about to.

It amazed her, the idea that he was the slightest bit interested in her. She'd seen one of his girlfriends, after all, a beautiful, leggy blonde thing. The very antithesis of her. But still, she'd seen the desire darkening those amazing eyes of his.

And fuck if she didn't want to see it happen again.

To hell with the air conditioning.

She took a deep breath, trying to think of how best to demand the man stop what he was doing and accompany her to her bedroom. She didn't expect he'd argue either.

John turned around before she spoke, something tiny with a vaguely blue tint between his fingers. "Blown fuse. I just have to get another one and we're in business."

If he'd told her he was really Santa Claus, it wouldn't have baffled her more. Was he really trying to fix the damn thing? She'd been hoping he was doing the same as her, pretending to be doing something while instead imagining having their naked bodies sliding against one another.

Shaking her head, she tried to think straight. Maybe he was trying to fix the damn thing so having sex wouldn't actually kill them. Yeah, that had to be it. "So, uh, how do you get another one?"

"There's a hardware store a few blocks down. I'll just go buy one. Won't take ten minutes." He smiled at her, seemingly proud of himself.

She stared at him. "What?"

His pride melted away to concern. "Carter? Are you ok?"

Panic set in, the idea forming that he was lying, that he just wanted to get away from her before she jumped him, that he wasn't going to come back. No, that just wouldn't do. In a moment of insanity she would later decide was due to some sort of heat stroke, she spoke honestly. "But you'll have to put your shirt back on."

He stared at her, his mouth open, his expression dumbfounded.

Slowly, his mouth curved up in a smirk, just as the realization of what she'd said was hitting her.

"It's ok, Carter, I'll take it off when I come back."

She wanted to die. She was mortified. Had she actually said that? To John Reese? What the fuck was wrong with her? Did she want him to laugh at her?

His smirk spread further, his eyes squinting with his wide smile. "Don't you move."

She watched him picked his shirt up from the floor and pull it over his head, before stepping toward the door. Oddly, even without being able to see his bare chest, she wasn't any less likely to jump him. She swallowed hard and tried to gather the shards of her dignity back together. "Are you coming back?"

"I promise I'll come back," he turned to her, one eyebrow raised, his eyes lingering on her exposed legs, "as long as you promise not to put on your pants."

Well, damn it, that might be a problem, considering that after the way he looked at her on his way out the door, she really needed to change.

As she waited for his return, she contemplated going back to the freezer for a nice blast of cool air. Sitting there in the heat with her thighs stuck to the leather couch cushions wasn't nearly as much fun without John to stare at. But she didn't dare move. He'd promised he'd be back and she didn't want to miss the moment when he'd walk right into her apartment like he lived there. She didn't want to miss one moment of seeing him in casual clothes.

And fucking hell if she was going to miss watching him pull his shirt off a second time.

In fact, she had every intention of helping him with that task.


End file.
